When You Can See the Moon
by FrUKing Awesome Canadian Hero
Summary: Even after all this time, Remus still has dreams of him. Remus/Sirius oneshot; T for kissing; warnings for angst and depressing nature, and of course, lots and lots of fluff.


**A/N: Well, this one is... different. First off, the whole thing is written from Remus's point of view, which is something that I don't do very often unless I'm using an OC, and secondly it's all written like he's talking to Sirius. It takes place sometime in the 6th or 7th books (lol, I'm ashamed I don't know when exactly...), after Sirius is dead and Remus is married to Tonks.**

**This is my first oneshot of them that I've found to be worth posting, although it may not be the greatest, but hey, it's a start! Enjoy, eh?**

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The moon is brilliantly full tonight. It hangs in the air like some unknown entity amongst the misty gray clouds, so bright it casts a long, willowy shadow on the grass behind me and nearly hurts my eyes to look at. It leaves blue spots in my vision when I look away.

I allow myself a soft, bittersweet smile as the heavy scent of the warm night air envelops my skin and my senses in the rich folds of its heady perfume. It is very warm tonight. I let my eyes slip closed, the dazzling moon leaving blue spots on the insides of my eyelids, and allow myself to revel in the way the air seems to ever-so-subtly cling to my skin. It is a muggy summer night tonight; crickets and cicadas make their music from the trees. I smile and stick my hands in my pockets, once more opening my eyes to the brilliant white gaze of the moon. I am content.

When your soft footsteps on the grass behind me alert me of your presence, I have only that warning before your scent blends with that of the humid night, and the strong warmth of you glows at my side, though our bodies do not touch. I breathe deeply, to catch some of that aroma that is purely and utterly _you—_cinnamon and dust and sweat and a soft, sweet scent like the world after it rains, that makes warmth spread through me better than any shot of firewhisky. I love your scent.

I love everything about you.

Your arm finds my waist, and when you draw me in I do not protest. Your chest is as strong and warm as ever; I count the pulses of your heartbeat against my side as I nuzzle your neck. With a deep sigh I slide my arms around you as well, running my fingers over every little flaw and muscle, twining a lock of your soft, dark hair around my finger. You pull me close to you and let out a sigh against my neck. I can feel the warm puffs of your breath against me, and cling to you as I revel in the rise and fall of your chest. You kiss my skin softly.

"I love you," I whisper, hugging you tightly. Those three words do not even come close to saying all I want to tell you, but they are all I can think of to say as you hold me, and I cling to you. "I love you so much, Sirius."

"I know," you murmur in reply, rubbing impossibly gentle circles into my back with your big, warm hands. The hands I have held, the hands that have comforted me after each moon, the hands I've licked chocolate from and the hands that have won so many of our tickle-fights. Your hands are beautiful. Just like your blue-silver eyes and the way your hair shines under the moonlight.

"So why did you marry her?" you ask, still holding me close to you. I bury my face in your neck.

"Because it made her happy," I whisper. "Too many have suffered on my account—at least hers was something I could remedy."

You smile sadly, stroking my hair. "Same old Moony," you whisper back to me. "Why do you think you don't deserve to be happy?"

Your warm hands are behind my neck, caressing my skin with a touch so tender it nearly melts me. I sigh and close my eyes, leaning up to you, our faces so close I can feel your long, dark eyelashes flicker shut against my cheeks and the tickle of your hair and the warm, chapped surface of your lips. You are so perfect.

Our breaths are mingling, our heartbeats as one, and my fists clench in the front of your shirt, pulling you to me; we kiss once, twice, three times, and you are so tender and loving and beautiful that I feel as though I will burst with joy.

"You are my happiness, Sirius," I whisper.

My stomach is doing giddy flips just like it did when we were teenagers as you pull me in for another soft kiss. Do you remember that, Sirius? I would give anything for us to just be teenagers again, without worries or cares, and nothing but love to guide us. Things were so simple back then.

When you pull away, I want to grab you and yank you back and keep you with me forever, but I simply cannot bring myself to be so selfish. I love you too much for that. Instead I let a single tear trickle down my cheek as your warm, strong arms withdraw from around my waist and your fingers stop caressing my neck, leaving me empty and cold. Our eyes meet; the moonlight shines in yours, setting them aglow. There are tears there, also. It kills me to see you look so torn apart with all you want to say. I catch your hand, and you hold tightly to mine.

"I love you, Remus," you whisper. "I love you so much. Just don't give up on me, please—I'll see you again someday."

I can't let go of your hand. "When is someday?" I plead desperately. The pulse in your wrist is steady and strong. You are crying; you turn back to me, taking both my hands in yours, kissing my forehead with tears leaking down your face even as you try to blink them away.

"When you can see the moon as Remus, and not the wolf," you whisper. "That's when you'll find me."

I lean forward and kiss you one last time; now you are desperate, your kisses deep and full of love and pain, and I realize that you even still taste like you. It sends another cascade of tears down my cheeks when I feel you finally pull away.

"I love you, Sirius," I whisper, as your hands slip from mine and you turn to walk away. The moonlight sends your shadow cascading over the grass after you, as I watch you disappear.

My eyes suddenly snap open, and I have woken up. There are tears all down my face, and the moon is only at a quarter outside the window; my wife sleeps peacefully at my side.

I am holding the picture James took of us dancing together at the Yule ball in fifth year, laughing together and leaning in for a kiss. Happy. I sigh and bury my face in the pillow that for some reason smells like you; more tears stream down my cheeks.

I want to feel you hold me again.


End file.
